Reunited (8 page)

Summer closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Even Coach Quigley seemed irritated by Alice’s blathering, shouting directions over her as she talked. It took some trial and error, but Summer finally figured out how to adjust Coach Quigley’s audio level. Sadly, Alice didn’t come with volume control.

“. . . which I’ve calculated specifically so that we’d spend an average seven hours on the road each day . . .”

Tiernan turned around, pretending to adjust her seat belt, and shot Summer a knowing smile. Summer smiled back. Maybe they still had something in common after all. Alice was still a control freak. And it still bugged the crap out of them.

“Anyway, I’m not taking Route 84,” Alice continued. “I’m taking Route 91.”

“So, should I just turn it off?” Summer asked, gesturing to her GPS.

“I guess for now, if you want to,” Alice said.

Summer shoved Coach Quigley into her purse and pulled out her phone. She had four new text messages. The first was a mushy apology from Jace. The second three were from Melanie, Claire, and Jocelyn asking, “Where r u?” and “Jace still luuuvs you,” and “Austin, TX! WTF?” Summer hadn’t told anyone other than her parents she was going on this trip. Then again, she
hadn’t decided whether to come on this trip until this morning. What did her friends expect her to do—post her entire life on Facebook?

When she’d left her house a few hours ago, getting some distance from the grapevine of gossip back in Walford seemed like a great idea. Of course, that was before she knew Jace wanted her back.

Summer’s cell phone buzzed in her hand with yet another text from her oh-so-remorseful ex-boyfriend. And as good as it felt to know she was wanted, part of her couldn’t help but wonder—as she read Jace’s fifth sappy apology—if the only reason he wanted her back was because she’d actually gone away.

“HEY, STRANGER”

I OVERHEARD PEOPLE

TALKING ’BOUT YOU.

I DIDN’T KNOW THEM,

BUT YOU SOUND LIKE A STRANGER.

THEY SAID THINGS ABOUT YOU

I KNEW WEREN’T TRUE

EVEN THOUGH THEY SOUNDED JUST EXACTLY LIKE YOU.

—from Level3’s second CD,
Rough & Tumble

TIERNAN OPENED HER EYES AND CHUGGED A LARGE GULP OF HER
lukewarm blue Gatorade. Shortly after scarfing down lunch at a New Jersey Turnpike rest stop (ugh!) she’d slipped into a long, fast-food-induced coma. Either that, or being forced to listen to the Queen Bee blabbing to her drones back in Walford had rendered her unconscious.

One hundred fifty miles later, Summer was still going strong. Apparently, her breakup with Jace (if it even
was
a breakup) was happening by committee.

“Are we there yet?” Tiernan asked groggily.

“Nope,” Alice answered. “Still in Pennsylvania.”

In the backseat, Summer flipped her phone shut, then immediately opened it back up and dialed another number. “Hi, Melanie? It’s me. Listen to what Sierra just told me.”

Tiernan raised her eyebrows and shot Alice a look. This
90210
-style drama was definitely not how Tiernan’s posse rolled. Then again, Tiernan could actually make decisions all by herself.

“Hang on a sec, Mel. Claire’s beeping in.”

As long as Tiernan could remember, Summer was all about
the boy drama. Even back in fourth grade, when the only boys in their lives existed in Level3 fantasy world, Summer could get bent out of shape if she and Travis failed a compatibility quiz in
Seventeen
magazine. Once, Summer saw a video of Travis kissing a Victoria’s Secret model on
tmz.com
and had actually cried real tears.

It wasn’t as if Tiernan had never crushed on a rock star before. As a kid, she’d had a major infatuation with Luke from Level3. Hell, she’d
still
jump his bones in a heartbeat, given the chance. But, unlike Summer, Tiernan always knew the difference between a celebrity crush and reality.

“That’s weird,” Summer whispered. “Jace didn’t tell me he went to your party.”

Tiernan gave Alice another sidelong glance. If even
Alice
knew, then everyone at school had to know about Jace and that perky sophomore chick. Everyone, that is, except for Summer. The girl had an army’s worth of blond frenemies back in Walford, and not one of them had the cojones to tell her Jace was stepping out on her. Not that Tiernan was about to drop that bomb.

“I thought you said you didn’t go to Melanie’s party. . . .” From the sound of things, Summer was back on with the cheater himself.

Tiernan leaned in toward Alice and cupped a hand over her ear. “Well, Bob,” she whispered in the nasally voice of some old-timey sportscaster, “Dalton started out with a weak first
quarter, but now it looks like she’s turning her game around.”

“Bob?” Alice asked with a chuckle.

“That doesn’t make sense, Jace. How do you forget to tell me something like that?” Summer was growing impatient, louder.

Tiernan held up a fake microphone this time. “The defense is giving it everything they’ve got, but wait—it looks as if Dalton has rallied and—hang on—she is heading into the end zone and—oh!—out of bounds!”

“Shhhh.” Alice gave her a reprimanding look Tiernan interpreted as
lower your voice
, not
stop altogether.

“I have to say, Bob,” Tiernan went on. “Dalton looks determined to take that ball to the goal line even if it means going into overtime.”

Somewhere in northern Maryland, Summer (halle-frickin’-luyah!) lost cell service. If Tiernan had still been sportscasting, she would have declared it a tie.

Part of her felt a little guilty for mocking Summer’s breakup. She’d had her own share of guy trouble over the years. She knew how much it sucked. Then again, it wasn’t as though Tiernan had been the one yammering on the phone for the past two hours with no regard to the bleeding ears of the two
other
people in this traveling sardine can.

Plus, someone needed to cheer Alice up. Maybe Summer was too self-absorbed to notice, but it was pretty obvious to Tiernan that being left out of the loop was still Alice’s number-one pet peeve. And the fact that Summer had now shared her
trauma with five zillion or so of her closest friends back in Walford, and specifically
not
with the two people who were actually in the car, had to be driving her crazy.

“Hey, Summer.” Alice’s voice was tentative. “I just wanted to make sure you’re . . . that everything’s . . . okay.”

Summer stopped to think, like she was pondering this for the first time. “I don’t know,” she finally said. Then she put Level3 back on—
loud
.

Good old Level3—more emo than 30 Seconds to Mars, less poppy (and decades younger) than U2, and just enough edge to get play on both the Top 40
and
the alternative radio stations. Tiernan hadn’t listened to Level3 in years, but in honor of the road trip, she’d loaded their first album (and their best, as far as she was concerned) onto her iPod last night. Surprisingly, their music still held up.

But even Luke Dixon’s hard-core drum solo couldn’t break through the walls of tension between them. And as much as Tiernan tried to kick back and enjoy the music, she couldn’t help feeling twitchy and restless, like she wanted to find the nearest mosh pit and dive in headfirst. The shrink Judy forced her to see after the divorce always used to tell Tiernan that being angry was just a way people protected themselves from feeling hurt. But as far as she was concerned, the only thing that hurt was her butt from sitting on it for the past eight hours straight.

They listened to the album twice and not one of them spoke a word.

Back when they were young, Tiernan always had a knack for snapping Summer out of one of her sulky moods. It wasn’t like Alice didn’t try. The girl was constantly going out of her way to do something nice if Tiernan or Summer was sad, like when Tiernan told them her parents were getting divorced and an hour later Alice showed up on her doorstep with a plate of her famous chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies, still warm. But as much as Alice tried to break through to Summer, Tiernan was always the one with the magic touch. She wasn’t sure how it managed to work out that way, but she figured it probably had something to do with the way Alice took things way too seriously and Tiernan never took anything seriously at all.

Not that Tiernan thought for a second that she
still
had that power over Summer. And even if she did, there were certain unwritten rules for the three of them being together again: invisible
DO NOT ENTER
signs; topics they dared not mention.

They finally crossed into West Virginia and Alice broke the long silence. “Check it out! We’re here!” She pointed to a large
WELCOME
sign at the border. “What do you say we find a cheap place to stay and call it a night?”

“Works for me!” Tiernan said enthusiastically.

Summer just nodded.

At the bottom of the off ramp, they followed the blue signs toward a strip of fast-food restaurants and chain hotels.

“Just so you know,” Alice began. “I’d rather stay in places
that are small and locally owned, as opposed to, say, corporate and franchised.”

Tiernan had to hand it to Alice—the girl not only talked the talk, she actually walked the walk. It wasn’t as if Tiernan didn’t have strong beliefs about things; it was just that she showed them more in a bumper-sticker kind of way.

“Well, I don’t think any of these chain hotels can take us anyway.” Tiernan pointed out the window. “The Red Roof Inn says ‘no vacancy.’ Same with the Travelodge across the street.”

They drove past four more hotels, each with a
NO VACANCY
sign.

“Since when did West Virginia become such a vacation hot spot?” Summer asked, suddenly perking up.

“They’re probably just here for the free HBO,” Tiernan offered.

Alice shook her head. “There has to be something going on. I mean, it’s a Monday night.”

Soon they were past the big-box stores and strip malls into a less-developed area. But even the locally owned fleabag had a
NO VACANCY
sign.

“Maybe we should get back on the highway and try the next exit,” Alice suggested.

“Hang on.” Tiernan turned to Summer. “I think we should see what Coach Quigley has to say about this.”

Summer pulled out the GPS and handed it up to Tiernan.

After a bit of poking around, Tiernan found what she was looking for. “Check it out.” She held the GPS up for Summer to see. “According to Coach Quigley, the Happy Beaver Campground is just eight point six miles up the road.”

“The Happy Beaver?”
Alice sounded dubious.

“
Please
, Alice,” Tiernan begged. “
Please
can we stay at the Happy Beaver?”

Alice shrugged. “As long as they have vacancies, it’s fine by me.”

“Whatever,” Summer said.

Ten minutes down the road, an enormous wooden beaver came into sight. It was only when they got closer that Tiernan noticed the little white sign the beaver held in his teeth:
FULLY OCCUPIED
.

“Looks like the Happy Beaver’s already getting plenty of action tonight.” Tiernan shrugged.

“Bummer!” Alice whined. “Now what?”

“I’m starving,” Summer said. “I think we should find someplace to eat first and then figure out the hotel situation later.”

From Tiernan’s unscientific observation, the only thing Summer had consumed all day was a small bag of fries and a Diet Coke.

“I brought along plenty of snacks, you know,” Alice offered. “Apples, clementines, granola bars, sesame rice cakes, soy crisps . . .”

“
This
, my friend, is what we call a road trip,” Tiernan said,
a note of authority in her voice. “Which means we should be adhering to the road-trip food pyramid, not that mini version of Whole Foods you stashed in the back.”

Summer stifled a giggle.

“I guess I must have missed that day in health class,” Alice said.

Tiernan went on. “On the bottom of the pyramid, you’ve got your snack cakes—your Ho Hos, your Twinkies, your Little Debbies. Next up, you have gummy animals, which includes your Gummi Bears, gummy worms, as well as Swedish Fish and Sour Patch Kids, all of which are considered subspecies within the gummy kingdom.”

“What’s at the top of the pyramid?” Alice asked, playing along.

Tiernan rolled her eyes. “Funyuns.
Duh
.”

“I think we all need to get out of this van and get some fresh air,” Summer declared.